In The End
by Quite Silent
Summary: So far its just a dream, but could it be more? Starts off in the middle of one of Clarice's scream tests. Seven is up!
1. Its what you need

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, these ideas, however are mine.

The moon shone brightly in the sleek black of a winter night, slicing through open eyes and broken hearts. A new snow lay on the ground, its softness equal to that of a pillow, its shine equal to the eyes of a mad killer, shinning in the dark against all else. Few remained awake, most slept, safe in their warm beds, or so they thought. Children stirred in their sheets, their imaginative minds filled with monsters and faceless boogie men. Clarice, however, was haunted by a different sort of monster; a lamb.

_The sound of her cheap shoes and soft screaming echoed down the darkening hall, seemingly stalking her as she went. _

Clarice's breath flew through out the room in bouts of winter steam as she silently screamed into the night, tossing and turning about in her bed, her hands shaking.

_"Please stop!!!" her voice came out as a barely audible whisper. She stopped turning to face her lamb. It stood six feet behind her, the intensity of its steely blue eyes matching her own. Its fur was a deep blood red from a wound around its neck. It seemed as though the lamb had an infinite amount of blood, never running out but always pouring. _

Her head slid off of her pillow, knocking the soft comfort to the black matting of her bedroom floor. She yelped in misunderstood pain as her head hit her hard, sturdy mattress.

_Suddenly the earth chiseled out from under her. She abruptly hung aimlessly in a dark, sickeningly quiet hole. She was being held up by something cold and scarily soft. All she could see was her left hand reaching into her pants pocket. The tightness of her pocket showed her something she hadn't seen just before, on her left hand was another finger. She had six fingers on her left hand! Under her hand she felt a metallic coolness. She pulled her hand out of her pocket; in it she held a light blue flashlight. _

In the cold of her room Clarice physically lifted her hand up above her thin body, her five fingers wrapped around an invisible cylinder. Her thumb moved to flick on a switch.

_The opening of the pit in which she hung was now brilliantly lit with a pale bluish light. At the top of the pit, the gleaming eyes of her lamb stared down at her, its eyes cruel and hurt, its blood dripped down into the pit, a large drop landing on her face with a loud squishing sound. With her right hand (her left still holding the flashlight) she felt the cool, soft...FLESH? What the hell? What was she lying on? She slowly turned her head along with the flash light. Just as the flashlight's blush drifted from the lambs face the lamb began to scream, its deep wale penetrating her ear drums and shattering her mind._

This time Clarice literally screamed, her lungs quivering in her chest, her shaky hands reaching to her ears. Her lungs collapsed as the scream finished, empty and pain filled.

_Her right hand clamped over her ear, her left directed the blue light to a pale white fleshy looking lump under her. Her eyes leapt from the white mound to her hand, she awkwardly wiggled the extra finger of the hand suddenly the girth jolted under her. Holy shit. A pale face with bright pink, blood shot eyes stared at her, its eyes bulging from its sockets, its mouth red with blood. It was a woman; her lips were a deep, cold navy blue, the once colorful bit of her eyes now milky. _

_It was Katherine martin. Clarice sat on her naked chest, Katherine's wrists and ankles were shackled to the walls of the pit. Katherine's face stared lifelessly at Clarice. Suddenly something in the face changed, but Clarice couldn't quite tell what._

_Quickly Katherine's eyes flicked. "Well hullo Clarice." Suddenly her eyes went into black sockets causing Clarice to scream, matching the lamb's cries. The lamb. Clarice slowly looked up, the flashlight finding a face in the light, peeking down at her were the faces of Jame Gumb, Hannibal Lecter, Jack Crawford, and her father. Their faces kept switching from set of shoulders to set of shoulders. Until suddenly all of them flew down at her, arms flailing, trying to find her throat._

Clarice began to physically gag in her sleep, her eyes tearing and her arms flying about.

_It all quickly went black then just as swiftly became light again. Clarice sat alone in the bottom of the pit, in a dirty old blue jumpsuit. She could feel coveting eyes moving about her, she promptly realized that her jumpsuit was half unzipped. She zipped it up, starring back at the steady eyes that looked at her through the hole-drilled Plexiglas that kept her from her watchers. There stood, Lecter, gumb, her father, Crawford, Miggs and Sammy. They watched her eyes ablaze. She felt like a rat in a glass box. She then realized there was yet another set of eyes set upon her. The lamb was in the room with her, standing but only half a foot away from her left arm. _

Clarice retracted her arm in sleep. She tossed and rolled over on her side, facing her now open bedroom window and a dark shadowy figure.

_The lamb drew closer, its blood dripping just as profusely as before. She quickly looked to the glass that kept her from her captors. They all had demonic inhumanly stretched, blackened smiles. She could see her own reflection in the glass; across her face was smeared the lamb's blood. Like the story in the bible, were mothers were to smear sheep's blood across their doors. She was going to be killed but was saved…but by who? Suddenly a load creak sounded and a pair of maroon eyes blinked at her from the darkness._

Hannibal stepped out of the darkness and onto a squeaky floorboard. He snarled in distaste. He should be more careful. Suddenly his Clarice's eyes opened. All she could see were the cool maroon circles of his eyes. "Screw you Hannibal, get away from me." She said groggily. He stopped in his tracks. A splitting quiver drove down his spine. She had called him Hannibal. "That's my little Starling."

He set his hand lightly on her cheek and was met with steely blue eyes, meeting his gaze and filling his mind with perplexed sighs.

A/N: I need a few reviews, not a certain amount this time. Hope you enjoyed.


	2. What he's been looking for

Disclaimer: yup, as you've probably guessed…their not mine.

**Alternate second chapter!**

The coolness of the air was plain and crisp; soon it would snow on this day to come. The silent stirrings of children lifted the night into the feverish nightmare of the imagination, grasping and choking the world in its clear as dense fog form. Oh how the lost wished they could silently slip away into its depth and revisit the days of their youth, declaring it a sort of "fountain of youth". For one Special Agent Clarice M. Starling this feverish nightmare fog had just settled into her bedroom, but it no longer remained just a light airless and choking fog. It now stood before her, a cruel reality in the form of the infamous Hannibal "The Cannibal" Lecter. He was lightly kneeling upon his left knee, slowly tracing the line of her jaw and high cheek bones.

Her eyes flicked open to his touch, the slate of her eyes being engulfed in the deep maroon flecks of the monsters sorrowful, soul stealing Baby Blues. The sight caused her to freeze to her sheets, stunned and frozen like a deer in headlight to his inspection. He was one of the most powerful and influential people to step into her minds eye and he had instilled such horror into her thoughts and dreams that it was almost unbearable having him less than a foot away, watching her, studying her, _coveting_ her. _'Calm Yourself CS…Don't let him get the upper hand in the sitch just because you're frightened of him…TERIFIED OF HIM… Oh shut up. _He could see the sirens and bells go off behind her cool, tired slate eyes. "Ahh, Clarice rattle the bells…Hannibal's back." He snickered at her through a deeply amused and showing it, smile.

'**Not in a thousand years…..You see Barney, Agent Starling is a deep roller…. I woke up in the dark…The lambs were screaming….Agent Starling do you really think you can dissect me with this blunt little tool? ... Dr. Lecter? My name is Clarice Starling. May I talk with you?' **The stream of words drifted through her cold almost shattered mind. '_He's a cemetery mink; He lives down in a rib cage in the dry leaves of a heart.' _She thought after the sequence of verbal memories battered her. She thought this for what? The fiftyumpth time in her life. She stared brutally into his eyes, her own now enraged and ready to attack. "What the fuck do you want Dr. Lecter?" her southern prattle seeping into his ears and seeming to burn them like liquid fire being pored into them. She slowly sat up, pulling her black, T-shirt feeling, warming comforter over her insecurely.

"Well Clarice…it's nice to see you too after six months. The reason I have scheduled this little visit is I have been informed of your current case dealing with the…what are you calling it…The death angel? Hmm Clarice not quite unlike the honor you were dubbed with by the National Tattler. It's a series of rapes am I correct…" she blinked and nodded inwardly. The case was one of the oddest she had ever seen. Teen **BOYS** were being raped and then murdered; so far there had been three victims. Their had been bodily fluid samples taken from the boys bodies that indicated that it was done by a man…but everything had yet to connect. Suddenly the metallic rasp of Lecter's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Isn't it odd how they are found Clarice? In the nude with a black wrist band and blood red costume angel's wings?" Something snapped in her mind… '_How did he know that? Does he know the rapist…When has he seen the bodies? ...He's been following me.'_ As she pondered he drew closer to her, drawing down the black comforter from her hands.

He smiled joshingly, knowing she hadn't noticed he had preformed this action. He now had a hold of her waste his hands reaching around her hips to secure her to the spot she now sat in. Her head swiftly turned as she suddenly realized his hands touching her hips. "Get your hands off and away from me." She steamed through clenched teeth, emitting a sense of great anger and sternness into her voice. All he did was hold tighter. She suddenly lunged, throwing her body backwards, but remained in the same spot, but different position she had been in before. Lecter now was about six inches from her face and drawing closer. She breathed heavily into his face. He searched her eyes. They were wild and furious. He watched as her eyes moved about his face, looking like a small puppies eyes, searching for its chew toy that rested in the nook of its owner's arms. The look on her face was frightened and beside herself. He inched even closer until the tips of there noses touched ever so slightly. Her eyes now looked filled with disbelief and terror. He could sense from her tension that in this very moment of time she was more scared of him then she had every, physically or mentally been. He was close to her that he himself could feel her heart beating in his own chest. "I'll make you an offer Clarice…" She tensed, her necks muscles clenching as well as her arms, sides and legs.

A/N: ok this is an alternate chapter I much prefer. I believe it is more to my style. What do you think? I need some reviews…not a particular amount…just some.


	3. But both of you lost it

Disclaimer: These are not my characters, but this story is of my thought and imagination. No copyright infringement intended.

The distortions to the face seemed hollow and indented, sick and weathered. Time slowed to a steep drag, hitting bumps and swerving. Blurry, was the road and map, the lines swirled and broken, the street lights faded and almost invisible. All of the words twisted and mixed. This map was unusual and young yet faded and worn. It was of memories. Where am I… "_He knew her! Goddamn it Ardelia he knew her!" There she and her best friends sat on the warm dryer in the C wing dormitory laundry room.. _No that's not what I'm looking for… _"Tell me Clarice, would you ever say to me 'stop, if you loved me you'd stop'?" Smashed against the old refrigerator she refused him as he handed himself to her in the most obvious way he knew._Closer but not there yet…

AHH found it! "You are here" the sign pointed. _She sat with him very close to her, their noses touching, their breath entwining in a dance between them.. _"What's your offer Lecter?" she whispered sounding almost defeated by her stress. "I am surprised you didn't guess my dear Clarice, Quid Pro Quo of course, what else?" he smiled cunningly at her, his small white teeth glinting in the moon light of the open window behind him. "Doc-" He cut her off. "Not the usual games though, Special Agent Starling, this time we shall commit Physical deeds. You do things for me, I do things for you."

Her eyes widened and she sat bolt straight now, loosening his hold as she moved. "What do you mean by that Doctor?" Her voice was edged and jagged. He sighed disapprovingly. "No, no Clarice, do you really think I would ask you to perform such a un honorable deed, or perhaps that I would do something so ungentlemanly? I assure you I would never do such a thing, without your permission of course" He let go of her, a Cheshire cat smile appearing on his face yet again, and stood, pacing about her bedroom, studying its walls as he did every time he made a late night visit. "Then give me an example Dr. Lecter," she paused for a second thinking. "For both parties."

A light breeze swam through the window and into the dark room, sending the ends of Hannibal Lecter's jacket flailing around his legs. He paced back and forth his expensive shoes scuffling on and off of her matted floor. Abruptly he stopped turning to face her. "I will be the first to find the next victim…I guarantee it, but only if you get me the case file of the rapist that I myself may keep, and a small piece of evidence" He watched her eyes carefully studying them. "No." her voice seemed to echo through his ears, bring back times of being refused by the same woman that sat before him. He shook it off with a flick of the neck. "Then you will receive no information from me" he turned to the window that had now almost been blown shut by the wind.

"Wait!" she too was now standing, her protective comforter now down on the ground. He looked her over, his eyes coveting and he knew she could feel it. She was wearing a black tank top and tan men's pajama pants, an inch of her mid-drift showing. She twitched and picked the Comforter up once again as she felt his eyes. "You already have information to give me, I know it. You don't need more than what you have already. I don't how you're getting to the victims before us, but if your withholding evidence from me or anyone else concerning this case I will bring you into an asylum, handcuffed, myself." Her eyes were bright and open, the cool grey of the moon making them deep almost clear circles. "You would always deny me my freedom at the drop of a hat, would you not _Agent _Starling. You have always been bright Clarice; I am indeed getting to the bodies first."

He walked to her, his hand cupping her cheek, he leaned towards her, his left arm wrapping around her upper back. "Mmmm" His left hand made its way to her own and from it he ripped a tape recorder. "Always" he held it in front of her face, his eyes chilly.

A/N: sorry it took so long. Well this is the third bit, enjoy.


	4. He'll try to find it, at all costs

Disclaimer: I do not own any of Thomas Harris's characters, no copyright infringement intended.

The light caress of snow upon skin was angelic, its distant and cooling touch swam through the thick winter air, as though there were thousands of beings swimming the channel, but never quite making it to France. Life is just as the snow is. You swam the channel and some made it to the other side, while others got too tired along the way. Others swept through it, with a few minor slow downs, and still yet others set themselves to an advantage, by tiring out others. The young boy that was laid before her had fallen victim to forced tiring.

The boy lay in a heap of dirtied snow, the false, red wings jutting from his bare back. She knelt by him, her knees popping as she made herself get as near to his cold, blue face as she could. His eyes were wide open and bloodshot. The lens of his eye was a pale blue, not unlike her own. She stared into his death-deepened features as she did so she pulled the silver tape recorder from her back pocket, the sting of the night two weeks ago still remained on its metallic cover. For a split second she thought she could smell him on the buttons, inside the recorders mouth where he had pried the tape from. She thought escaped her mind just as she clicked the play and record buttons in unison. "Looks to be about fourteen or fifteen, definitely still in high school. Eyes are blood shot, indicating strangulation, but will require further analysis."

She slowly clicked the recorder off as she became lost in deep thought, her eyes staying on the boys the whole time. Hannibal had been here already. He had seen the body. Maybe he was even the "anonymous" caller who reported a red set of wings perched atop a huge clump of pushed aside snow. He had to have gotten to the body first; he knows whose doing it. She thought, her hand subconsciously growing tighter and tighter around the tape recorder. Suddenly she felt a sharp tap on her left shoulder, her surprise nearly causing her to tumble straight into the boy's face.

Standing tall behind her was her old boss Jack Crawford. She greeted him with a grand smile, her eyes lighting up, but just as quickly going out, disappointment rising in her gut. "Hello Mr. Crawford. I thought you retiredseven years ago" she wasn't exactly sure what to say, knowing he had seen what she had felt. "I did, but they asked me to assist this case because of my 'expertise'" he grimaced as he mocked the last word, the pronunciation ringing off of his tongue. "Oh" she sighed, looking down at the boys head, noticing his left ear's absence. She quickly clicked the recorder on once again "Missing left ear as already seen on other victims, theUNSUB's habits haven't changed except for age, looks to be fourteen or fifteen, younger than all of the other victims, looks like ear was separated with a serrated blade, not smooth or clean at all." She clicked it off, turning back to Crawford, whose leather like face was smothered in a coy smile. She now squeezed the tape recorder almost hard enough to break it. Her thin, pale fingers almost digging into the metal's surface. Her knuckles were as white as a sheet of paper.

She could feel someone behind her watching her, their eyes seeming to push down on her skin like yearning fingers searching for an estranged bump or birthmark. She swiftly turned, her eyes searching the horizon behind her.

* * *

He nearly jumped out of his seat when she turned and looked straight at him, her blue eyes blazing in the cold air. He smiled and nodded his head but dared not wave to her, knowing Jack would recognize the wave in a second. He watched, the smirk never leaving his lips as the realization of who he was swept across her features. She quickly turned back around to her ex-boss, her hair billowing behind her in the wind.

* * *

Suddenly over the roar of passing cars and the sound of her blood in her ears she heard her name being called. "Starling! Take a look at this!"

"If you will please excuse me Mr. Crawford, I believe I am being paged." She smiled falsely, extremely relieved to have an excuse to not talk to him. Ever since a set of rumors had been spread around The Bureau about her and Crawford, (some inappropriate and some about him using her to get Hannibal "The cannibal" Lecter.) She had felt odd around him, not really knowing whether to trust him or not.

She walked quickly away from him, sneaking a glance at the now empty café table where Dr. Lecter had sat only moments before. "Starling!" the voice called even louder this time. "Yes sir?" she asked agitatedly, looking in the direction she was being reguested from. She reached the foot of a small set of stairs that led to the front porch of an oldhouse. Her supervisor Mr. Paulson stood above her on the porch, his eyes angry and disgusted. Tied to the door of the home was a pair of human lings, something in the left one bulging almost through the thin muscle. "Oh my god"

She quickly moved the recorder to her mouth, pressing the record button. "Lungs found tied around door knob at…" she stepped back trying to locate the homes address number. "At Thirteen fourteen oak street drive, large object has been placed in the left lung, still unable to be identified, will be bagged and sent to the ME's office ASAP." She immediately clicked it off and ran back to the body, throwing the recorder into her jacket pocket.

"Gloves! Where's the box of gloves?" She called out. Just as she finished the last word someone was at her side with latex gloves, she quickly put them on and knelt by the body. She took hold of the young boy's shoulder and pushed his collapsed body off of its self. There was no incision mark, no stitching or scars to be found. They weren't his lungs. She once again removed the tape recorder and pressed a button. "Lungs do not belong to the victim, there are no incision marks or signs of stitching." She clicked it off and put it back into her pocket. She looked into the cool sky and sighed. She had already been there four hours. Two of which had been wasted on calling on Forensics, other agents and getting the crowd to back off of the crime scene.

"I could use a hell of a lot of coffee right now" she though her mouth watering at the idea. "Mr. Paulson, I'm gunna leave now, is that alright? I will have a report in by Saturday morning." She cringed as her West Virginian prattle seeped out. Her boss looked at her sternly then smiled. "I want you to stay or go straight to the office, you have some work to do here Starling" he loved torturing her with work; it was his only way to get to her. "Yes sir." She grumbled angrily. "Son of a bitch, ass wipe" she thought, the fake smile disappearing from her face as she turned."Oh and Starling?" He paused for effect. "If i find out that you didnt go tot he office, your ass is gunna be on the line."

She walked to her car slowly, wishing she had just left instead of saying anything to the bastard she called her boss. Frustrated she got in and started the engine, taking the cassette recorder out of her pocket and placing it in the seat beside her. She turned the radio up loudly and drove off, her hands clenching the steering wheel, wishing it was her boss's neck. "No you don't Starling" she said to herself out loud. She came to a stop sign in a small back neighborhood that she drove through everyday to get to the office. The song on the radio stopped playing and the car was abruptly filled with the sound of commercials. She quickly turned it off, talking to herself. "Yada yada, Club sapphire, comewatch all the sluts and bad dancers…" she said loudly, though to herself.

"Turn here Clarice, your going to be a little late tot he office I am afraid" The thick metallic voice seeped from her back seat nearly making her jump on the gas as she startled in fright. "Holy shit" she coughed out, breathing hard. After she didn't move for a longmoment a strong hand wrapped around her thin waist and a harpy was pressed hard against her throat. "You turn or get in the backseat and allow me to drive" he hissed into her ear, the warm of his breathe smothering it.

A/N:Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm


	5. But she will defend it with her life

Disclaimer: These are not my characters, they belong to the individual known as Thomas Harris, and therefore, I have not invented them. Tada.

The crash was loud and heart shattering in its immensity. The earth seemed to quake and pull out from beneath them as her mind tossed and turned. Her senses failed in response to the activity held in her mind, the thoughts flying by in bright colors, the display portrayed to her as though she was looking through a window, only observing, unable to catch the thoughts. The sudden image of a butterfly net caught her attention, it would have made her laugh in its ridiculousness if she had not been in this situation; for now it was what she truly needed; something to gather her wild flying thoughts with. Now, in her mind she broke through the window and gathered the thoughts, the first coming to her in bold letters. **Fear; **Should it be present or not? Should she fear this man? Of course, her body screamed at her but her mind, oddly, felt differently. She mentally felt no fear of this man at the moment, the sudden urge to ignore his instructions igniting behind her eyes.

"Fuck you Lecter." The words slipped easily from her mouth as she stepped on the gas, throwing the car forward and onto the opposite street. Soon they were out of the neighbor hood and on a deserted back road. The harpy's grip on her neck tightened and began to draw light lines of blood from her alabaster skin. "Stop the car Clarice." But she once again denied him his wishes. Frustrated he now unhooked his arm from her stomach and took hold of her jaw. At this moment she slammed on the brakes, sending him tumbling into the center consol of the vehicle. Immediately hitting the gas again she sped forward, the harpy gone from her neck in his disorientation. Now he sat up, eyes ablaze with anger. It was the most frightening thing she had ever seen, though her mind refused to let her body react. The first thought that sprang to mind ultimately planned her demise. _He's going to kill me and I don't care._ Making a sharp turn she felt the razor like edge of the harpy cut into the bicep of her right arm. Suddenly her mind flew to the past night, his touch on her bare skin, the amusement in his eyes. He had to know something she did not about the case and was withholding it from her, just as she had warned him not to. Now anger flared in the place of fear. She had sworn to him that if he did this she would take him in herself, arrest him herself and torture him with the loss of his precious freedom.

She now intended to keep her promise, weather it cost her her life or job. Hitting the breaks once again to make a sharp u-turn she recalled, from her drug busting days, an old factory in which they would not be found if searched for. She heard from her right a hiss of distaste as Lecter was once again slammed against the dashboard. "Where are you taking Us Clarice?" his voice shuddered with anger, his free hand reaching for the steering wheel. For the first time she looked away from the road and straight into his eyes. She was aught up in them, her mind loosing all train of thought. Suddenly he had control of the wheel, though she began to struggle for it. Hitting a patch of ice neither of them, in anger, thought to gain ground control of the vehicle as it slid at seventy five miles an hour into a tree that rested to the side of the abandoned road. Everything seemed in slow motion to her, visions of glass shattering and airbags ballooning became the backdrop to the intense stare of his maroon orbs, her mind not registering the hit until her head was slammed heavily into the glass monitors of her head board, the steering wheel detached in the collision. In the fading light of her vision the maroon of his gaze blurred with the deep crimson of the blood that dripped into her eyes. The last sensory element that reached her was a loud, heart stopping scream; she soon realized that it had escaped her own lips.

A/N: Ahh I am so sorry it took me so long to continue! I know it's not exactly long (haha), Ive been working on a book,but I hope you enjoyed. Reviews are greatly appreciated. Best wishes, Qs.


	6. Sirens

Disclaimer: I do not own Hannibal Lector, Clarice Starling, or any other character found within Thomas Harris' Books and the films produced.

The calm after the storm, a deadly, pregnant silence that seemed to permeate the air in an attempt to combat the horrid sounds that had just held its place, he could feel the cool, crisp winter air seep in through the now shattered windshield as he stared at her unconscious and bloody body. He could feel her breathing in the silence, the sound not reaching his ears, but the movement of her chest seeming to push against him. Looking from her body he observed the group that now surrounded them, by standers and morbidly curious on lookers. The thought of people swarming like insects to see what had happened to them disgusted him, though it strangely fascinated him, the world's obsession with death and pain. Smiling for a moment he quickly hid the harpy within his suit's jacket pocket and stepped from the vehicle, a mask of concern spreading over his face.

"Some one call an ambulance! My wife is hurt! Please! She's very badly injured!"

A woman standing near an over crowded café immediately removed a cell phone from her purse, a look of shock keeping her eyes wide and her mouth a gape as she dialed, another pedestrian removed a phone from his pocket and began to dial. Within minutes sirens were heard, their loud shrieks drawing closer with each passing millisecond. Soon he watched as four firefighters removed the car's door, the same amount of medics swooping in behind them to remove Clarice from the torn vehicle. Shouting, concerned voices began to list off conditions, descriptions and commands. A young, freckle-faced medic jogged towards him, her long blond hair pulled up into a thin ponytail.

"Sir are you injured?"

"No, just take care of my wife; I need…" he faked desperation. "Please let me ride with her."

"Of course Sir, but I'm going to need information on both of you."

"My name is Douglas Browning, My wife's name is Kristina, our insurance is with DCPH Medical, just take her to the nearest hospital, we don't have a preferred one, oh god, she's so hurt."

"She'll be okay Sir, but we need to get her back as soon as possible."

They both began to jog towards the ambulance in which Clarice had been placed.

"Does your wife have any history of Anemia, diabetes or stroke within her family?"

"No, her mother had heart problems but there's nothing that comes to mind other than that."

They each climbed into the ambulance, followed by an older, grey haired medic. Siren's blasting they pulled away from the scene. The young woman took Clarice's pulse, the older medic cleaning the blood from her face with a thick piece of gauze-like clothe. Picking up the radio hooked to a strap on her shirt the blonde pressed a button and spoke into it feverishly.

"Female maybe 28 to 30 years of age, 114 to 120 pounds, potential head and internal injuries, emergency assistance requested."

Letting go of the headset she found herself face to face with bold, hardened maroon eyes, beyond which lay her fellow medic, streak of blood sliding down his face, its origin his temple.

"So sorry dear." The words slipped from his lips as he lifted the heavy metal box up, bring it down hard against the right side of her head. Dropping the box, he reached into his pocket for the harpy, opening and reaching through the dividing window, stabbing the knife into the passenger's neck, then the driver's temple. Abruptly the ambulance slowed, coming to a stop in the center of the street. Quickly he moved form the rear of the ambulance to the front, turning the sirens off and pulling into a parking lot. Climbing back into the rear of the vehicle he undressed and redressed in the older man's clothing, carefully pulling the bodies of the driver and passenger out of the vehicle and into the flatbed of a truck next to which he had parked. Moving towards the back of the ambulance he removed the stretcher upon which a still unconscious Clarice lay, and rolled it towards a silver van on the other side of the nearly abandoned lot. Quickly picking the van's lock he opened the door and unlocked the back of it, opening the trunks hatch, opening the trunk he pushed the second row of seats into their floor compartment, maximizing space. Running back to the ambulance he selected two heavy blankets which he laid across the floor of the van's trunk, taking the pillow from beneath her head and placing it on top of the blankets. Picking up the injured woman he gently set her upon the blankets, her head resting on the pillow as she carefully shut the trunk's door, and sped to the driver's seat. Hotwiring it quickly he hit reverse.

Pulling from the parking lot he smiled triumphantly, pulling out into the street once more just as he heard the stirring from behind him.

"Clarice don't move, you're injured, you may have head trauma."

"Hmmm…" her moan sounded groggy and far off.

Driving back past the destroyed vehicle from which they both had abandoned only minutes before he took the turn he had asked her to take, they'd be out of the city in nearly an hour, and out of the state in four.

A/n; So. It's been a year, But I received a review from Jenny and I was inspired to write more. So tell me what you think.


	7. stars

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they belong to Thomas Harris.

Bright, blinding and spectacular they glowed like stars, their color pure and white. Slamming her lids shut she tried to block the small dots from her vision, the sun's rays shining into the mini van through a child's sun protection mesh. Beneath her she could feel movement, but did not know where it originated. Slowly opening her eyes once more she stared at the thin black meshing that covered a small square of what looked like a window. Her eyes flowed up towards the ceiling and she watched as the dots slid and danced over the roof of whatever she was in. Sighing she let her lids feel heavy once more, the thin, skin shields covering her eyes again as the spots disappeared. She must have dreamt it, dreamt of Lecter, of the winged boy, and the lungs hanging from the door knob, and refusing to listen to the good doctor.

Staring into the rearview mirror he had been alerted by her sigh, and had seen her eyes close again and a soft smile spread over her lips as she once again lost consciousness. He had begun to worry about her; she had mumbled something incoherent about an hour and had not awakened until just now. He found himself saying things to her as he drove, the radio playing the news quietly in the background as he listened to her movements.

"Clarice, you need to comeback, I'm not done playing with you yet." His eyes stayed on her slight, bruised and still form. Just as his maroon orbs slid from the mirror to the road before him her voice crackled through the van's interior.

"Your not real." Her voice was soft but stubborn.

"What Agent Starling?"

"I'm dreaming of you."

The though made him smile and his lips curled as he wondered how many times she had indeed dreamt of him.

"No your not Clarice, I'm real."

"No your not." He watched as a smile broke across her own lips and a small laugh escaped from between them. "You know what? You're not intimidating anymore, and my shoes aren't cheap, and I'm not a fucking rube." The last words slipped out as she seemed to drift off completely.

"Oh, a rube you are not Clarice, not any longer. Your much more sophisticated now." His words dripped with sarcasm. He did not like how she was living; she had rented a small two room, unsanitary, house for way too much and neglected the small home whenever she was in it; which she was not often. He usually found her at her office, sleeping silently in the dark on the couch that lay adjacent to her desk. Each time her position within her precious bureau was compromised or changed she worsened, it seemed like a habit to him. Like biting one's nails or pulling out one's hair. Clarice just, instead, lost a little bit of her shell and became inevitably more human and weaker.

"Go away."

"But I'm not real, remember Clarice?"

"So?"

"Well then, if I go away now I won't be able to tell you whose lung's those where and what was in them."

"Just tell me now." Her voice seemed even groggier than earlier.

"Okay. If that's how you want to play this... It's a human heart."

"What?"

Suddenly images came flashing into her mind, the red wings protruding from the dirty pile of snow, the cold flakes whipping at her face, seeing him sitting at the café, waiting for her, the graying pink of the lungs that hung from the apartment's doorknob, the thick, heavy looking lump that pressed against the sides of the hanging lungs. She felt her face flush and heat, her eyes flying open to look upon her surroundings. She was in a vehicle, a large one, an SUV or van.

"Good morning, I was quite worried about you."

The voice stung in her ears and her back curled as she shot up in place, immediately stopping herself as pain and nausea shot towards her throat.

"Oh god." A flash of a harpy meeting her neck, the sound of screaming as everything went black.

"You might not want to do that Agent Starling, you may have some internal injuries and head trauma."

"Ohhhh." She tried to turn onto her side felt another wave of nausea pump up her esophagus. "Pull over!"

Abruptly the vehicle stopped and Lecter removed himself from the driver's seat, running to the back of the van and throwing the hatch open. She was lying on her back coughing, her hands and arms wrapped around her stomach. Reaching in he did not hesitate to pull her into a sitting position, which only served to throw her stomach wrenching. Crying out she vomited on the pavement that rested just beyond the edge of the van's end.

"Get off me." She pushed with little strength against his hold. He let his hands run over her rib cage and tried to ignore her cries as he felt two broken ribs, his fingers finding peculiar indents in her upper abdomen as he searched.

Trying to keep from screaming she bit her lower lip and looked around her, they seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. There were no other cars, no buildings, just woods and brush. Suddenly the weight of the situation sunk into her conscious and she began to struggle harder against his arms, but he held her tight, like a child, against his own body.

"Can't you hear?" her voice was harsh and drained. She looked suddenly tired, like she had just finished a marathon and had been hit with the full force of it at once. Cringing she looked at him pleadingly.

"Can I please stand on my own, or sit on my own, or, or something? Just please, let go of me."

Nodding he let go of her frame and let her sit on her own, and watched carefully as she slowly stood and attempted to take a step. Her knees seemed wobbly but she took another. Abruptly she fell to the ground, her knee caps meeting hard pavement and scratching holes into the knees of her suit pants. Her hair fanned over her face as she sucked in a hard breath.

"Clarice!" he had come to stand and now took a step towards her.

_No time like the present._ Wheeling on him she brought the heel of her boot against his knee, her right arm swinging for his cheek but meeting the side of his neck as he tumbled backward. Standing she steadied herself against the edge of the van, searching it's trunk for her weapon. She knew she had to be faster than him, a feat that was hard to accomplish as he was already back on his feet and coming after her.

Climbing into the trunk she threw herself backwards, her legs kicking out as she flipped over onto her back, her left foot making contact with the left side of his abdomen but he seemed un-phased. The landing blew the air out of her lungs and she found herself searching urgently to find a breath. Her side was aching from her broken ribs and her head was swimming. Before she could suck in another lungful of air he had a hold of her foot and began to pull with unusual strength. She was out of the van in mere milliseconds and being held against its side, her right arm pulled up and behind her back.

"Uncle! Uncle!" it almost sounded like she was joking around with him, the effect she wanted was portrayed beautifully as she let out a false laugh. "You got me!" she joked once more until she felt his hand slide up her waist and his fingers dig into the sharp edges of her broken ribs, the pain so intense her world turned black for moments that seemed like hours.

"Now Clarice, why would you try something like that?" he jerked his arm up, pushing harder against her broken ribs as she screamed into the van's silver paint. "I really don't think it was very wise of you, and I really don't enjoy hurting you."

His breath was hot on her ear as she spoke, his lips almost touching the soft skin of her neck, his nose nearly embedded in her sweet smelling hair.

"Does it bother you?" she managed between gasps.

"Does what bother me special agent starling?"

"The fact that you don't scare me anymore." She pushed against him and flipped over, her nose nearly touching his, his hands pressed against the van next to the curve of both sides of her waist. She was locked in. leaning in even closer she let her lips nearly brush his, her eyes locked on his the whole time.

"Let the games begin." He could taste her as she spoke the words so close to his lips. Peaking an eyebrow he stared at her for a moment, the thin, sharpened blade of his harpy slicing through the paper-like layer of paint that covered the van's surface where her neck had been. She hit the ground and was behind him and running before he could pocket the knife once more.

"I'm up to the challenge my dear Special Agent Starling."

A/n: Tada! What do you think?


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